Inside Beauty
by A Poisoned Aishiteru
Summary: A/U. Roy Mustang was a well-known model, while Edward Elric was the fresh-face in the crowd. When the two are scheduled to work together, neither are impressed. But do feelings change, when they meet outside the studio? Rated M for content/language.
1. A New Partner

Hiya, ya'll. xP

So this is my first ever fanfic I've written, which makes me a bit nervous to post it up. I'd appreciate reviews, but no flames, please.

**A/N: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and I own nothing. Well, I do own the side characters and plot, but besides that, nothing.**

Now, this is A/U, but still set in Amestris. Some slight differences occur, but just to make it fit more into the story.

I hope you enjoy reading!

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**Inside Beauty**

**June 15th**

He smiled in the mirror, before scrunching his lips up to give him more of a pouty appeal, as his eyes of coal narrowed a bit. He then placed a giant grin on his lips, closed-mouth so none of his bleach white teeth showed through pale skin. He was a gorgeous man, with the pale porcelain face that girls swooned over and men aspired to have. No scars, no acne, no blemish or bruise. Hell, it couldn't be natural, and it wasn't, but it wasn't like the pompous man would ever care. As long as his teeth were shiny and people could see their reflection in them, he didn't give a flying fuck how he got them.

He was a model after all.

Sure, not all models were as big-head and a player like this one, but the man with the raven black hair was an exception. His hair was probably the only natural part of him, because even if he was pompous and a snob, he wasn't a fool. Nope, that shiny, black, luscious hair was au natural, which he would keep until it turned gray. Then he would most likely dye it back.

The man stood in his temporary apartment, as all his belongings were being moved to his new mansion on the better, more classy, influential, and rich side of town. Until then, he was stuck in the dingy two-bedroom, two bath apartment that his manager got him just to live in for a few weeks. Least to say, he wasn't impressed. But, he would wait for forever and a day if it meant the house he had originally planned out on paper.

Ten bedrooms and twelve baths, all scattered over a spacious three floor house. It was upscale, with linen and silk and precious fabrics aligning the walls, though marble covered the halls and room, along with the countertops in the stainless steel kitchens. It was fancy, and it was all going to be his. No way in hell would he let his family move in with him. Fuck them. They didn't believe that he could be become a model; each time, his mother and father shot down his dream, and each time, he pushed back, before he left his house at sixteen.

He thought that it would be difficult, but with his surprisingly good looks and pouty fierce attitude, he was able to be spotted in a crowd and booked in an agency. See, miracles do happen to the beautiful.

Even at his ripe age of thirty-three (1), he was still looking as great as his twenties. Don't believe it? Just take a look at the walls. The dingy apartment here still had the pictures, the numerous ones lining the walls. They mostly covered the drab fading green paint in the living and dining area, and some of his best in his bedroom. Only the best though, since only the best women he brought home would get to see the masterpieces.

The pictures were ads, pictures, canvases, art, magazine covers, movie posters, and everything that could display a picture of a man, because that's just who they were of. Him. Now, if someone bothered to look at all the pictures, maybe they could see a name gathered on the cold paper over and over again. And if you weren't stupid, as least you would be in his eyes, to figure out who he was, that would be a tip off.

Yup, he was Roy Mustang, the world-redound model. He was known for living in Central, the fashion capital of the country, but even then, he still couldn't believe some people didn't know who he was. Maybe it was for the best, he thought, since then the paparazzi and everyone would be on him twenty-four seven. And he wouldn't want them on him. Unless, y'know, they were all _women_ paparazzi.

Roy was a ladies' man true and through. He was one of the many players in Central, though he could be counted as more of the popular ones, if you followed him in magazines. The man could get around the room faster than a disease, which was saying a lot. Sure, sometimes his career made him work with other men, but Roy was a full-time batter for the ladies' team.

Grumbling, Roy looked over to the opposite wall, beside the door. He was currently in the front room, which he also called the living room since the real one was occupied with his awards and covers and pictures and…everything else.

A black leather couch and loveseat sat in the middle of the room, on top of dark green rugs that matched the peeling painted walls around them. The carpet was shag and ivory, though had recently dirtied up from dust and lack of cleaning. Roy could still see crumbs from the chips last Saturday he had, when the bag had fallen off the wood-and-glass coffee table. He could also see the ring marks from mugs and beer on the glass, which wasn't much of a surprise since he would use a bib before he used a coaster.

There was a fan on the ceiling, where most of the dust from the carpet came from. It was summer, and it was hot as hell, but that's what air conditioning was for. And it wasn't like he was home every second of every day anyway. Plus, the light was out and Roy didn't want to fix the bulb. Instead, he just used the lamp next to the bookshelf, which was holding the flat screen television up.

Off to his right was a hallway that leads to the master bedroom and bath, where it sharply turned and leads into the guest bedroom. The other bathroom was right before his master bedroom. On his left was the kitchen and real living room that he had turned into a 'Trophy' room as far as the vain man was concerned.

His eyes had been set on the black and white clock, which was mounted right between the hall closet and front door. Ten to eleven. Great. His manager was late. It wasn't like her to be untimely, which made Mustang worry for half of a second, but then it was gone. She could take care of herself, he knew. And if he showed any sort of curiosity and worry on her behalf, he knew she would pile her gun out faster than any sharp-shooter he knew, and almost shoot him. Maybe miss an inch or two if he was lucky. Roy knew Riza would be okay.

He was dressed in a tight black t-shirt that extenuated his toned muscles of his chest, something he worked hard to keep at the gym every other day. On the bottom were just designer jeans he had got from Riza. She said they were from the newest up-and-coming designer, some man from a town called Lior in the north (2). He didn't catch the name, but they were a nice and expensive, so Roy didn't care.

He looked at his left wrist, where a silver watch sat, before sighing and looking back at the large mirror. It wasn't body size, but it did reach down to around his belt on his five eleven frame when he was standing up next to it, so it did him fine. The glass was mounted around a stainless steel-type of material, molded into cursive and exaggerated shapes.

As he looked back up, black eyes and raven hair falling into place in the reflection, a hard, commanding knock rang on the door. Without a doubt, Roy almost pissed himself a bit. Riza always did this to him. She came from a military family, which didn't give leeway to her decision to become his manager, and when time needed it, bodyguard. It baffled him at first, since Roy was a man who tried to tap everything with boobs at first sight, and even though Riza was no different, they never really had anything. Drunken nights don't count in his book. At least not for Riza.

When he was about to move to answer the door, a good twenty feet away, said wooden object suddenly flung open, smashing against the wall and leaving an indentation. It was just another one on that wall, as similar ones could be seen all around. He sighed, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair as he scratched his head, before lowering it back to his side with a sigh. As she made sure everything was secure, Riza Hawkeye walked in, crouched, with her gun in front of her, in all her seriousness and undeniable beauty. She had long golden blonde hair that was wrapped up in a bun placed firmly at the back of her head. Her almond eyes were fierce and fiery, showing some unbridled fury locked deep within them, though it all cleared when she saw Roy was okay.

She was dressed in dark blue jeans and a along sleeved gray shirt. The top was a bit low, not enough to make her breasts pop out, but Roy could see the beginning of them from the top. As she straightened up, holstering the gun in the back of her jeans, she placed her hands on her lips, pursed her lips, and looked at him disappointedly.

Roy looked at her, but he was used to this sort of apprehended look. "What's wrong, Riza?" He asked, though it came out more like a statement, an expectation to know he did something wrong, than a question.

"You're late." She stated, not moving a muscle, even when Roy's face went into total shock mode, as he began pointing a finger accusingly at her and sputtering uncontrollably.

"I'm late?" He repeated, as she nodded curtly. "You're late! You were supposed to pick me up at a quarter till, and now it's," He paused, looking at the clock on the wall, "Eleven on the dot." Roy stated, turning to look at the confused look of Riza.

"I wasn't supposed to pick you up, Mustang. You were supposed to come to the shoot on your own, since I'm not your mother and you're not completely helpless." She snipped, jabbing him straight in the jugular as he sighed. Of course, he knew that, though it did get old when Hawkeye told it every time he was late or missed something. So, sometimes he didn't have the best memory, but it wasn't his fault. He had better things to think about.

"W-w-well," Roy stuttered, not knowing what to say. He couldn't remember her telling him that, but then again, he couldn't remember half the things she told him over the last week.

"Wait, when did you tell me this again?"

Her face fell, giving into a large sigh as she leaned her arm against the door jamb for a moment. It took only a second for her to look up, shoulder replacing her arm as she kept herself up against the side of the door. "Mustang, it was yesterday, after the meeting with Mr. Cornello?" She said, tilting her head to the side, trying to prompt him to exclaim that he had remembered. When nothing came, she continued. "I dropped you off and told you to leave your house at ten thirty, because it would take you twenty-minutes to get there, and be nice and late like you like." She gave leeway finally as his face sparked, snapping his fingers in delight as he remembered.

"Ah, yes, I do remember! Oh wait, shit." His face fell, as Hawkeye gave him the same 'Oh shit' look back to him. He remembered a bit too late, unfortunately.

"Well, now you'll get your wish and be nice and late, as per usual." Riza said, pushing herself from the door as she walked over, grabbing Mustang by the shirt and dragging him out the door. He squeaked when she first grabbed him, but let her take him out the threshold, slamming the door close once again, before she finally let go, chucking him in the elevator downstairs.

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He didn't get to the appointment until eleven-thirty. After being scolded in the car, traffic being a bitch, and not being able to find any place to pull the car over, Riza had finally just shoved him out the door and made him walk in himself. He stopped in the lobby, waiting for his manager.

Roy had never been here before, at this small studio located on the west side of Central. It was where most of the shops and cafes were located, along with small studios and art galleries such as this. It wasn't incredibly small, but wasn't as big as some places that he had been. The lobby was a bit small, actually, when he looked around. It was mostly covered by furniture and the large desk the secretary sat in front. On her left and right held a door, which he suspected led the same place, but the designers tried to make it fancier by adding two entrances. There were some chairs on both sides of him, silver metal with white and black cushions on the bottoms and tops for headrests.

Pictures of models and still-lives danced around the walls, accompanying every little space here and there. He only recognized one picture, the one that held the model Dante, on the furthest wall behind the petite secretary. He hadn't the pleasure of meeting the beautiful woman, but it was a dream of his to talk to her for at least a second of his life.

The secretary caught him looking, which she must've assumed it was him by the way she turned bright red. _Oh well_, he thought, completely forgetting about the picture of the nearly naked lying down Dante, as he sauntered over to lean on the polished wooden desk.

"Hey beautiful, how are you today?" He said, putting on his low voice as he lowered his head, though lifted his eyes up a bit to gaze at her hazily. The girl gazed back, her mouth open a bit as she got caught up in his trance. She squealed a bit back in her throat, though coughed roughly a second later to try and gain composure. Her hands shifted hurriedly through the once-neat paperwork, finally finding the planner and looking down at the date. June 15th.

"Are you…um, "The brunette woman squinted at the page, "Mr. Mustang?" She said, blinking up adoringly, though retaliated as Roy's face fell for a second. She didn't know who I was right away? Roy thought, though regained his composure once again, putting on a grin.

"Yes, that would be—"

"Roy Mustang!" A booming voice shook the room, and Roy swore he saw the picture of Dante almost tip forward. The black haired man turned to see the person who had spoken. He was a well-balanced man, with dark brown hair and a scruff all over his chin, placed deep within a high-structured face. His eyes were piercingly icy blue, probably the second sharpest gaze he had ever seen in his life. Riza still stole the cake on that one.

He was dressed in jeans on the bottom, with a suit jacket and blouse on top, as hands placed on his sides and his head crooked to the head to study him ever so slightly. "Yes, yes, yes!" He exclaimed, strutting forward to place his hand out and vigorously shake Mustang's, who was a bit overwhelmed already. He knew of this photographer, Vincent Noir. Of course, Roy had never taken any pictures with the over-zealous man, though Riza said it was a high-paying and good time to start working with difficult photographers. The only thing that concerned him was that Noir's pictures were mostly of men…Hopefully they knew of his position, as hard core ladies' man, and flown him in some boobs.

He hoped to whatever god was up there they did.

He looked around for Riza, gulping slightly, as the man came closer. He had heard a bit about the man, with his bi-polar attitude. He heard he could be playful and a bud one moment, and the next he would be yelling and going insane. He definitely didn't want to go down that road, but Roy wasn't about to let him dominate himself.

"Hello, Roy…can I call you Roy?" Noir asked, grinning at him. The mess of brown hair and giant teeth made him think he was looking in the face of a lion.

"Mmm...No." He spoke bluntly, as Noir's face faltered a bit, before sparked back up quickly. "How about, Mustang, May I call you that?" He questioned, almost sheepishly, to which the model shook his head no.

"Ummm...uh, ehh, Mr. Mustang?"

"Bingo."

Noir's face lit up immediately when he finally found a name to call him, completely forgetting that he had just failed at it twice, before swung around, bringing himself to rest with his arm over Roy's shoulder, he walked forward, jabbing on and on about something or another.

They walked through the door on the left of the petite brunette secretary, who was out of Roy's view the minute he was led into the back room. It was another room, smaller and covered with smaller, different versions of the pictures from outside. A brown door was straight ahead, as it opened with a slam, as a light brown haired woman assistant appeared with a clipboard against her chest. She had a Bluetooth in her left ear, and glasses perched on her nose.

"Ah, Rebecca." Noir said, pushing Mustang forward. He, of course, wasn't expecting it and nearly fell flat on his face. Noir grinned and Rebecca's face didn't falter from the blank expression it had been before. "Rebecca, this is Mr. Mustang." The photographer said with a nod, before he turned to the man he had just shoved. "Mr. Mustang, this is Rebecca. She'll assist you in getting ready. She'll get your clothes, make-up and everything done, so don't hesitate to ask her for anything. If you ask her nicely, she might even give you some snacks or something! Hah ah!" He laughed, shaking his head as he gave a wave to Roy and headed towards the door Rebecca had come in. "See you in ten, Mr. Mustang."

Roy sighed, glad the man was gone, but when he looked at Rebecca, he couldn't help but grumble. She still had a stern look on her face, reminding him of his manager…Speaking of his manager, where was she? He looked around hastily, back through the door to the main lobby, before towards the door that lead to the dressing rooms and photograph studio.

"You're manager is already back here and getting the dressing room prepared." Rebecca said, a slighted accent piercing through her melodramatic voice. He knew she wasn't from Central; perhaps down south? No matter, he nodded, which Rebecca accepted with a turn, as she went through the door into the larger room. It was spacious. Straight-forward was the large curtain where he knew that Noir and all the assistants would be taking his and his partner's pictures in a few minutes. To the left was another ivory curtain, which he presumed was his partner's dressing room, as his was the one on the right.

He was glancing around and taking in the high-ceilinged, beige-walled room that he had not seen Rebecca move toward the right hand curtain and life open the 'door.' "Let's go. You only have ten minutes." She snapped, adjusting the glasses on her nose as Roy hurried and walked into the room. It was typical, with a couch pushed against the single wall, with a long table next to it and coffee-like table in front of the plush couch. Some snacks stood in bowls on the tables, along with magazines he presumed held Noir's work.

He saw the rack of clothing to his left, right beside the opening to the space where he could clearly hear Noir's voice ringing over everyone else's. He turned back to look at Rebecca, who was gone, until his attention was drawn towards the other 'door', leading into the larger room. Riza appeared, slightly agitated already. Hm, they had something in common.

"Mustang, are you getting ready?" She asked, knowing the answer full on. Right as he opened his mouth to speak, she caught him off. "Two minutes." "What?!" He yelled, diving for the rack as he found the one's marked for him, pulling them off the hangers and throwing them on.

Riza stepped out and two minutes later, Roy emerged. He wore low-cut dark blue washed jeans, which rode dangerously low on his hips. On top was an ivory blouse, only buttoned half-way up, and with a black vest placed on top of that. It was simple, though still a bit more heavily than he imagined with this photographer.

"Ah, Mustang, what took you so long!" Noir boomed over the room, coming to place his arm back over Roy's shoulder. He was about to go on about how it had only been five minutes since he had last seen the photographer, but once he started, he was afraid he wasn't going to stop.

"Oh, zipper got caught." He muttered, looking away, before towards the scene. A smoky-gray canvas stood in the back, while the camera was perched some feet away in front. He didn't see any props, but another rack of clothes on the left hand side, which he presumed was from his partner's dressing room.

"Now, Mustang, my boy, get ready, we're starting in a moment." Noir exclaimed, letting go of the model's shoulders, as he went off shouting about the lighting. Roy rolled his shoulders and shook his head. "So much for _Mr_. Mustang…" He trailed, nearly jumping out of his skin as he glanced to the right, only to find Riza suddenly right there.

"Ready, sir?" She asked, looking over towards the camera, than back. "Yeah, but are they not gonna let me see my partner? I hope it wasn't someone like that Rebecca chick. Maybe more like the brunette secretary?" He muttered, though Riza heard him loud and clear, as she rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. "I haven't seen the person yet, but Noir was saying that he loved working with the model. Takes excellent pictures." She jabbed, trying to lay it on nice, though she could tell by the faraway look on his face that all Roy was thinking about was getting to get half-naked with some hot chick.

He had turned half-way to Riza, with eyes still looking towards the wall with the canvas and camera, when he heard the _swoosh_ of the curtain opening, and the sudden gush of some of the female assistants.

"Oh, you look great!"

"Awh, that clothing looks amazing on you! Totally makes your skin and hair…pop!"

"So handsome!"

Roy had been enjoying the comments he had been hearing about his partner, but the last one made him freeze. Handsome? Isn't that something you usually say to a…_man_? He looked down at Riza, who didn't look the slightest bit surprised. Pheh. Maybe he was still saved. Maybe the assistant was just not from these parts and 'handsome' could be used for both genders. Hopefully when he turned around he would be face to face with a beautiful woman. Blonde or brunette didn't matter at the moment. Just a woman was fine. She could be flat-chested for all he cared…

He turned, and when he saw the long golden blonde hair in a ponytail down the person's back, he exhaled the breath he didn't know he had been holding. But as he trailed across and down, putting the rest of the body on the head of hair, he gasped lightly, eyes going wide.

The gasp must've been loud enough, because the man turned to look at him. He had the softest face that Roy had ever seen, with big golden eyes that was also a first time thing for Mustang. The golden locks framed his light face, as the braid ran down his shoulders and stopped between his shoulder blades. He was bare chested, with nothing on but a vest similar to the one Roy wore, along with the same style of jeans.

Riza smacked Roy on the arm, noticing the man had been staring at the shorter, obviously younger man. He didn't realize the blonde man curiously cock his head at first, but once he saw it turn into a fish-gasping-for-water sort of face, the blonde went straight into a scowl with narrowed eyes. Noir came in next, at a good time too, as Roy regained composure.

"Ah, Roy." _I thought I said don't call me that_. "I see you've met Edward already." Noir boasted proudly, throwing the arm back onto Roy's shoulder. He was sure it would bruise. "Well, not exactly meet, per say." Roy scrolled out, using hand gestures to prove the point.

"Well, then let me be the first to introduce you. Edward, this is Roy Mustang, the man I've been telling you about." So at least he knows a bit about me, Roy thought, that's a good sign. He saw the other man named Edward soften his face, almost go so far to put a slighted smirk on his lips, before he put his gaze back on Noir. Roy reluctantly pulled his gaze towards the man as well. It was hard, since Mustang wanted to look back into the golden stare he had been getting, to glance into it and know the pure innocence that lingered there. Of course, he knew it would be gone quickly, with his modeling career and everything…but for now, it was an innocence Roy hadn't seen in a very long time.

"And Roy, this is Edward Elric, a fresh face in the crowd. And for today, you're partner." Roy knew when he looked back at Edward that his fish-out-of-water look reappeared, since the scowl had also come back to his face. Oh fuck.

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Reviews feed the hungry!

**(1):** I couldn't remember the exact number of years seperate Roy and Edward, so I guesstimated fourteen, making Roy, 33, and Edward, 19.

**(2):** I also couldn't exactly remember where Lior was located in terms to Central, and north was the first direction I thought of. So I chose that.


	2. Finally Figuring It Out

Long time no see for this story, huh?

I'll flat out and say I had no motivation to continue writing this story at all, but then I saw that people were still reading reviewing it, and it sort of amazed me. I couldn't believe that it wasn't just being ignored, and with all the nice people taking their time to look and add a comment about it, it just made me want to keep going. So after what? Three months? Here's the next chapter of Inside Beauty. (:

A/N: I do not own FMA nor any of the characters besides the agency members. (:

Rated M for language, situations, and explicit content later on.

No beta. Only gone through a spell-check about three times.

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**Inside Beauty**

**June 15th**

At the sudden revelation at his partner, Roy immediately turned towards Riza who didn't look the least bit surprised, like she was into it. A hysterical joke that he wasn't apart of because he was the butt of it all. Perfect. He opened his mouth, before closing it and prying it open once more, a feat that lasted several attempts until he was quieted by the booming voice of Noir.

"Mustang, is everything alright?" The man asked cheerfully, causing Roy to almost stroke at how well he was taking it all. Well, of course he was taking it well, since this other kid must've worked with him so many times before. Plus, Noir hired the kid in the first place! To work with _him_! The idiocies of this whole scenario were just starting to catch up with him, as he slowly shook his head 'yes' so the man wouldn't come over and make sure himself.

Didn't this photographer have any idea of Mustang and his straight ladies man style? It wasn't like he had the problem with working with a man, but he knew what kind of work Noir was in, and what sort of pictures he usually churned out. Not regular poses, but more like the men were always caught right before they were about to go at it, those few compromising moments. But Roy had also seen how well those sort of pictures sold merchandise, especially to the gay-obsessed woman who always liked to see two men screw each other senseless. The pictures gave the promise of that, and the fantasy of what wasn't captured on fantasy.

It was money worthy, but Roy wasn't just sure how worthy it was yet. At least not for him.

'They better be paying me a lot of money…' He thought, turning himself to face his manager once again, when he realized that Noir had started chatting with Rebecca, who was still as stone faced as ever. Riza, on the other hand, looked like she was enjoying herself finely. He could even see the beginning of a smile tug at her firm placed lips.

"You knew about this!" He accused, staring at her like he had just seen a ghost. He could swear his skin had grown paper-sheet white when he had heard what Noir say, and even though the normal Roy would be worried about his skin and how it would mess up the perfect quality he had groomed himself to this morning, now was not the time. At least not fully, since it still was lodged back in his mind that he would need some makeup or something before he stepped foot in front of that camera.

"Of course not, sir. I knew that there was a possibility of a man and when Rebecca told me your partner was quite handsome, it may have given the tip off to anyone relatively smart, but I didn't out-right know that it was another guy, Roy." Riza explained, speaking quickly and evenly, with such bluntness that calling her out on her words would be like putting a loaded gun in his mouth. And he rather liked his mouth, after all the shit with dentists and bleaching that it took to make it look nice. Plus, there were always _other_ reasons for a human mouth, but he wasn't about to get into that when his next partner was… oh wait, what was he? Oh yeah. A guy!

"But, but, but…!" Roy sputtered, to Riza's stern face, who wasn't about to give in to his whining about the whole situation.

"Just deal with it Roy. It'll be okay." She spoke, pulling out a little bottle from one of her jean pockets. Roy squinted at it. Carry-on cologne.

Riza gave him a spray, working it around nicely, before pushing it back down into her pocket. "Take some nice pictures and get paid. Isn't that really all you want to do? The sooner you do it, the faster it's done." And with that, she gave him a fleeting, mocking (in his eyes) smile before drifting towards Rebecca and some of the make-up girls to start chatting about the shoot.

And this was it. Time to make some nice photos. 'Please to God let's make some nice, quickly done photos!' He whispered in his head, begging, groveling on the ground that it would be done early. Riza had just thought he was being a prissy, but there was a bit more to it. Not that he would ever admit to her that he was actually nervous doing this job. Flat-out terrified to pose when some other male, who looked perfectly comfortable walking around without a shirt on. Shit.

When Noir suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulder, Roy almost whacked him out with his hand, falling short as he controlled himself at the last possible second. Noir wasn't fazed.

"Alright, Roy! Ready to go?" The man said cheerfully, voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room.

"Well, Noir, ya see here…" Roy tried to stay, though wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to convey. Noir was eagerly looking at him, edging the model on for whatever he wanted to say. "Okay, what I want to say is: do you know who I am?"

Noir stopped dead for a moment, unsure of what to say. He had the look of a bit of edged fear as not wanting to say something wrong but on the other hand, he appeared generally confused. Roy was a bit himself at what had slipped past his lips. "R-Roy Mustang?" The photographer ventured, nodding his head.

"Yes, well if you know my name, wouldn't you know a bit of trivia about me? Like how I'm, I dunno… straight?" Roy narrowed his eyes at the last word, nodding his head over to where his partner was standing, obviously listening but not to Roy's knowledge. Noir nodded his head once more, mocking what he had down before.

"Well, I'm sure you are, Mustang, but I'm sure you know what my name is and some trivia of me too, right?" Noir fired back, throwing it into the vain model's face with a serious slaughtering tone. "I'm Vincent Noir and I shoot duo plus male photographs. If it doesn't suit you, don't book." The next moment his face was cheerful and gratified again, as if the little throwback was nothing more than a sentence between friends.

"Anyways Roy, up-to!" He bellowed, letting go and heading towards his camera, as Roy glanced at him.

"Everyone in their places! Let's get this thing going. Roy, get in the camera view. Come on, hurry up now."

The model grumbled at the way Noir had treated his smooth-talk, completely calling him out on his own words that he had hoped would have given him a bit of pity or at least a woman. He would give up his sanity and model with Rebecca if he had to. A little makeup and va-vrooomm—

"Are you just going to stand there all day?" A sickly-sweet voice pulled him front the trance he had not realized he had fallen into, bringing him to the real world. He had wandered to the area in front of the camera stand, as the background did a great job standing in the background and racks of clothing had been pushed to all sides. He really hoped they weren't changing clothes and that's just something for the studio to look cool.

Looking a bit down and forward, he noticed his blonde partner, looking at him with golden eyes slightly narrowed. It was far from a look of concern, but more of a weirded-out glance, unsure if Roy himself was mentally ill or something.

"No, I'm fine." He answered automatically, giving Edward to crook his face up once more.

"I didn't ask if you were okay, but I guess if you aren't sputtering random obscenities or looking at me like I'm a freak, then we are okay." The blonde had said, placing his hands back on his hips which almost sacrificed a bit of his masculinity by doing it. In Roy's eyes at least, because even closer up, he looked like a cross between the genders. Long golden hair and beautiful matching eyes like the women Roy loved, but such muscular toned body of a man.

Plus he was a little smaller than most men he had seen in this business

"Sorry about that. You know, about earlier. Just not used to working with guys." Roy excused himself, and when his complex was expecting Edward to be a bit sympathetic towards him, instead the other male grew into a wide grin and burst out laughing, grabbing his sides.

"If that's your excuse, I haven't the slightest idea how you are still in the business." He finally resolved, after his little fit was over, as Roy grimly looked away. "Oh, don't be like that. Just don't make me do all the work." Edward stated, walking to Roy's right, trailing his eyes up and down to give him the run-down. It made the model uncomfortable for the reason why he didn't know why he was so flushed at this other male model given him the once-over. He turned with Ed, who looked up from the other side, so that looking at them, Roy was on the left and Edward, right.

"Alright, alright! Let's get this party started!" Noir said from behind the camera, the people working the lights getting them ready. It suddenly got brighter, though he could still see Riza beside Rebecca, who had the face that basically said 'Don't screw it up'. Yup, that summed it up.

The last place he saw was Edward looking at him expectantly, like the man actually wanted him to start. As Roy moved to do so, a chorus of the make-up girl's voices broke the steady silence.

"Whoo, you take those pictures!"

"Oh, you're so handsome in those jeans!"

"Awwooohhh!"

The hoots and hollers stopped after a moment, as Roy gave a sharp smile in the girl's directions. Of course they would, wouldn't they? How sweet of them to give me such lovely treatme—the hell?

Looking over to the girl's faces he saw each of them staring not his way, but lower. They were looking and calling for _Edward? _The blonde was giving a timid thankful smile, almost like he was embarrassed from such calls instead of overjoyed. He glimpsed at Noir, who appeared perfectly fine with the outburst, even going as far as to hold a thumbs up over to the pair.

"What the fuck was that?!" He yelled in the direction of Edward, who shook it off with a shake of his head, lunging forward to take Roy's undone shirt into his hands, yanking him to his level and pulling him close. Roy gave a sudden shriek of surprise, as a bright flash of the camera caught the moment on film.

He was caught off guard once more, when the blonde pulled him even closer, going so far as to almost brush his lips against Roy's. His eyes grew wide, seeing just the sort of thing he was about to get himself into.

As Roy tried to take control, first by doing his own pose and hoping that Edward would catch on and do his own thing, or at least hang on him adoringly or something. He needed something to boost his ego at the moment, and the way the other man wasn't looking at him or anything wasn't exactly helping. It didn't work. He thought he could even hear the sighs coming from Noir from behind the camera and wasn't on a suicide mission yet to look over to see what his manager looked like. But when he finally thought he was about to call a break or something, he got the perfect idea.

Sticking out his stomach a bit, arching his back to give some vogue pose he had seen those way-too skinny models do in the magazines all the time, he pulled Edward close to him; into what he thought was an awesome pose. It only was until he saw no camera going off and Ed looking at him, confused, that he saw it was a worthless idea.

Edward sighed from the spot on his chest. "I guess I am doing this by myself." Muttering, the blonde suddenly twisted his foot beneath Roy's leg, throwing him off-balance as they landed in a heap on the floor. Roy was wide-eyed, surprised once again by the male's actions… and the way they had landed.

Roy had his back against the ground; the leg closest to the background wall bent at the knee as his other was stretched out, plastered by the floor. But his breathing grew a big haggard as Edward appeared in his wild eyes, on all fours in between his legs, body over his own. The blonde arched forward, darting so close that he had to move his head an inch to the left or else he would've crashed directly into the blonde's lips. One, two, three and so on flashes later met the lighting being brought up a bit and Noir coming back.

"Alright, alright. Hmmm… I think we need a bit of a wardrobe change. Rebecca?" He said, asking over to his assistant.

"No need for wardrobe. Just forget some layers." She answered, stoically writing some notes down on her clipboard.

"Right, right you are." He answered, pointing to Edward. "Take the vest off and put on the blouse, like Roy's." it was suddenly very empty when Edward got off from Roy, jogging quickly back towards his dressing room, where he emerged, shirtless two seconds later, blouse in hand. He couldn't remove his eyes quick enough, for fear of being sucked into the current but he was gone, as the blonde rolled his shoulders back, slipping into the sleeves and taking a few buttons up.

"And Roy, just throw off the vest. This advertisement isn't about the clothes for something else. Don't know yet, but we'll find something!" He boomed, as Roy plaintively ignored him, stripping out of the black vest and chucking it somewhere out of the view of the camera. A second later, Edward joined him, though his golden eyes were staring back, but straight where his eye level met.

"What are you looking a--?

"You have an amazing body and from what I've heard, great modeling skills. Why not show these people you have what it takes to model with both genders?" Edward asked, a look of plain curiosity spread across his features. "If you need to so bad, just pretend I'm some stupid flat-chested girl, and actually model. Right now, you'd totally put Dante to shame."

And that did it, as Roy reached forward, putting his hands at Edward's waist, pulling him forward. He had hoped it was the best form of surprise, but besides the look of someone who had just answered a question correctly, Edward had the same curious look plastered on his face.

"Huh, Noir was right." He muttered. Roy gave him a confused look.

"Oh, you're probably wondering what I mean?" A stark nod. "Well Noir told me that you have some mini-obsession with Dante, so I just had to try out the waters with insulting her and you. It seems your reaction was just like he had said it would be." Edward looked at him, victorious.

"B-b-but you shouldn't insult Dante like that! She takes beautiful pictures, like the one hanging in the front office that Noir took."

"The front office here?"

A nod from Roy.

"That wasn't taken by Noir. He only takes pictures of men." Edward said slowly, like he was talking to someone with mental incapacities. Again.

"And how exactly do you know?" Roy pleaded, defensive.

"Because when I asked her about them, she said she's never taken any pictures with Vincent Noir in her life. She's reluctantly admitted to meeting and having dinner with him, but any more than that? None."

Roy had stopped, his mind going blank. Fish-out-of-water face appearing once again he was sure. "You-You've met _Dante?_" He hissed out, like saying the words to the smaller blonde were causing him a great-deal amount of pain.

"Well yeah, haven't you?" Edward asked, confused by the statement. Roy knew why, since sure he was a bigger, famous, and (in his eyes) way more attractive looking man than half the ones he knew. But he still hadn't had the chance to meet the beautiful woman yet.

"No! I've been trying to meet her for about five years! But whenever I try and find he—"

"You mean stalk her?"

"No, I mean find her. She's either not there or has already gone or has not shown up. I'm amazed you got to see her for more than one moment." His voice showing his amazement in fine ways, making the blonde a bit confused once more.

"She's not that great. But yeah, I've met her a few times. Just chance meetings, I guess." Roy wasn't nearly as convinced, because at the last sentence the other model's face had turned into one of a more disguised disgust; not at Roy, but he wasn't sure if it was at himself or much more at the woman he had just been talking about. While the normal Roy would've pushed him further, this situation wasn't exactly normal, so he stopped.

"Well, if you ever met her again, and I'm in the neighborhood…" Roy trailed, earning an eyebrow from Edward and a laugh.

"Of course, you'll be the first to know, besides me." He truthfully promised, before clearing of someone's throat broke them from their trance, both heads turning towards Noir. His face was turned into something of mild curiosity and full-knowing of whatever he thought was going on in the situation.

"Alright you two, save the flirtin' for later. Let's finish the last few sets." He picked the camera up from the stand, heading forward to kneel right before the beginning of the placemat, signaling towards the light men to bring the lights forward once more.

"Flirting? Wait what…no!" He said, about to fling his hands up defensively, only to notice he was still holding onto Edward's waist. The blonde watched his with amusement as he ripped his palms away like they had been burned, shaking them back and worth as he tried to deny it. But Noir heard none of it, only nodding for them to get ready.

As Roy was about to get back down on the floor, Ed caught him by the arm, tugging for him to stay up. He ignored Roy's look of wonder, yelling towards Noir to wait a second.

"Edward…" He muttered, the name rolling off his tongue. He just noticed he had yet to say it, and as quickly as he noticed, said person acknowledged it as well, a small smile gridding his lips.

"Okay, Roy." Another first time for a name. "Put your hands on my hips."

Roy gaped at him, a bit taken back at the bluntness that reminded him of a certain other blonde manager of his. But reluctantly, and after looking at the persistent golden eyes displayed in front of him, he did so, placing them high and with his fingers flailed out.

Ed gave him a sour look. "What are you, eight? I don't have a disease, Roy." He said, grabbing his larger hands with his own, pushing them farther down on his hips until he crashed nicely into the bony hipbone. And directly after that, Edward closed Roy's fingers down, making sure they were touching his butt. He glanced up, expectantly.

"What?"

"Really?" Was all Edward could muster, his face not willing to go any dryer. "What is the first thing you would do with a girl in this situation?" Roy just stared. "Grab her ass! Now grab! Do I need to show you how to do this too?" He closed his hands against Roy's, pushing the fingers down so Roy would hold on without his help. Roy didn't like the direction this was taking. Not with how he was holding this totally hot man in front of him, but the fact that he was thinking of him as a good-looking fellow. Oh and also how he was being directed.

With a little anger towards himself for taking control so later, he gripped on Edward's ass, as said blonde hitched his breath, falling forward in a gasp, right into Roy's chest. "Finally." He could hear Ed mutter, looking down to see the golden eyes staring back at him, into his own pair of dark oblivion set ones.

As a moment passed by, the sudden flash of a camera drew them from their own world, heads echoing the movement from not even twenty minutes ago as they looked towards where it had come from.

"Beautiful! Perfect! Just keep going like that!" Noir praised, as the two looked back at each other, Edward pushing himself up from the much wider, broader chest, though was still held tight by the hands groping him in the ass.

The next several shots included Roy lowering his head, looking like he was laying kisses along Edward's neck, though he was only leaving small wisps of hot breath. He liked the squirming he was answered with when it happened. It last about thirty minutes, with a bit more directing, until it came on the last picture.

Roy had slipped his right hand, the one closest to the camera, a little farther down so it rested on Edward's thigh, delving lower towards his privates. The other was tightly, possessively grabbing around his waist, pulling the blonde up close and personal to the dark haired man, and as one looked down, the other looked up. When the last flash of the day left the room, they were not as ready to let go. But finally, after what seemed like a year though in reality was only about fifteen seconds, the duo untangled themselves from another, looking down a bit before up.

"Well, that was fun." Roy said, with a smile.

"Took you long enough to learn how to do things." A snarky attitude escaped Edward's lips, surprising Roy as he looked down at the man he had just been holding close. Confused, he cocked his head, but the charade was already over, as a slighted grin returned to the impulsive blonde. "Bye Roy." He said without another word, heading back towards his dressing room.

--

Roy had finally gathered enough gusto to change back into what he had been wearing before; emerging from the dressing room he barely even used, to find Riza waiting with Edward talking animatedly to her. He hadn't been able to stop thinking of what they had just done, the sheer amazing feeling he had coursing through his veins. But he couldn't say that, not in front of them nor anyone for that matter. He had his pride still, no matter what. So after he checked his hair in the reflection of one of the steel bars, he headed towards them, plucking on a short look over towards the blonde.

He looked great, in an off-the-shoulder long sleeved shirt and jeans. But Roy loved the fact even more than his hair was pulled more down, so the loose pony tail feel almost freely down his shoulder blades, but contained up top underneath an ivory knit Gatsby cap.

But he had to stop gawking, which was a bit difficult. He could seem like he was thinking of someone else or even staring at Riza, but even though he hadn't known Edward for that long, he was sure the male wouldn't believe his lie of thinking of Riza as much as such woman would.

"Come to lunch with me." Edward said suddenly, nodding his head at Roy with such persuasiveness that he almost could not say no. But he had to. He couldn't spoil his title of a ladies' man for one guy shoot, could he?

"Sorry, I have a meeting with my boss." He excused himself, putting on a faux expression, like he was very sorry he couldn't go out with Edward. He was a bit, but for the last ten minutes of changing back in his dressing room, he had been trying to convince himself that it was all something that would blow over by the end of the night. He could still feel the tingling in his fingers, from where he had gripped the other's ass for about an hour.

"It wasn't a question, Roy." Again, there's the lip, followed by the smirk that meant he knew he had him in the palm of his hand. And he did.

"Sir, I spoke to Mr. Cornello earlier. You're meeting is moved later this evening, so lunch is quite alright for right now." His manager interrupted, making Edward's eyes light up.

"Great." A clap rang out when he slapped his hands together. "Then let's go!" He reached out, grabbed Roy's sleeve and dragged him out, back towards the door leading to the little room with all the pictures, and into the lobby with the attractive secretary. He waved goodbye and she giggled. But Edward didn't let go, not until they got outside, though he still practically shoved him down half the street.

'Guess I have no place to argue…' He thought, shrugging lightly and turning to look to see where the blonde was taking him.

* * *

Comments/reviews/whatever feeds the poor.

And by the poor, of course I mean me.

-Mazzie


	3. Blockade vs Hinder

Wow, hey guys, long time no see with this story, huh? It's been around nine months since the last update and almost a year since I first started this story. Well, that little anniversary isn't the reason I am attempting to enthrall myself back in this story. It's a mixture of things like how I can't believe people are still reading and viewing this story. It amazes me and I thank everyone very much. It's also a dedication to the fact that my other story, _Edward_, just reached 1k page views. Well, IB is about 90 page views away from 1k, so hopefully this will push it over that edge (:

So I got struck with some inspiration today when I was straightening my hair (I have naturally curly hair; like Shirley Temple hair I swear, haha) and during that hour and a half I was debating whether or not to write it out since I had been comtemplating on revising the second chapter before writing the third. Well, I didn't. I made the beginning of this chapter in retrospect towards the subtle change that the photo shoot had on Roy.

Yes, OOC in some parts. Sorry! Even OOC for the vain depiction I had of Roy in Chapter 1. Don't worry. He'll be back to himself in the next chapter ;]

Until then, enjoy an update to Inside Beauty.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**June 15th **

Roy stared across the table at the blond that had dragged him to the café, grudgingly realizing that his gaze didn't hinder the younger man in the slightest. In fact, it seemed to empower him as he tried to convince Roy for the twentieth time this joint was entirely better than the preppy, rich, sophisticated version of it in the eastern side of the city.

This one, called _Blockade_, was obviously started, styled, and created for the bohemian artists that lived in the area.

See, the west side of Central was dedicated to galleries, studios boasting photography and art, cafes, artists, writers, and gay people that had no doubt in their sexuality. And when Roy mentioned _gay_, he wasn't talking about it meaning happy.

So naturally that giant asshole Vincent Noir would have his big rainbow studio right in the middle of the Western Side, making it that much more difficult for Roy when he was forced to walk the streets with Edward towards Blockade to get lunch.

He hadn't really thought about where he was when he first arrived, mainly because he was too busy blanking out and flipping the bird at the stupid idiot drivers who crowded the roads like they had some place more important to be than Roy had. But that little walk over to the café had opened his eyes to the exact reason why he never ventured out of Eastern Side that often.

Sure, his current apartment was in the Mid-East part of Central, but that wasn't far away from Eastern Side at all. Like a few blocks, maybe. No, Western Side was an entirely different experience for him.

Eastern Side was the rich, snobby, priss part of the town that ran along the lines of Tringham Park, horizontally the largest and well-known part in the entire city. Sometimes people excused the formality of referring to it as Eastern Side and just mentioned they lived by Tringham Park.

When the park was mentioned, anyone who had lived in Central more than a day would know where people were talking about.

He liked the clean, cookie cut aspect of Eastern side; even if it housed all the assholes in the business of modeling under its roof.

One downfall of living in those mansions and penthouses on the Eastern Side: neighbors.

Neighbors in Central equaled the equivalent of the town gossip columnist, where everyone always had eyes peeled and ears opened, waiting to hear or see juicy details. Of anything. Really, anything.

It was sad how desperate it could be. But in the dog eat dog world, one person's gossip could be another's downfall.

Anyway, the mirror image of Blockade in Eastern Side was called Hinder. The only resemblance was name and that the same franchise owned both sister businesses. Roy briefly recalled Edward mentioning that _Blockade_was the first and only, and then Hinderfollowed and ruined everything about the decency of the café about five years ago.

If he called this upholstery and furniture _decent_ compared to Hinder, then Roy might as well take the knife from the table now and stab himself in the heart.

It looked like someone had come and completely ransacked the place the night before, and when the staff arrived in the morning, they took one look and went on with their shifts. Oh, and then a few people came over with some gallons of paint and spray pray and went to town.

It was just so…messy. And if Roy was anything, he was not a slob.

He was narcissist with his looks, and unfortunately it eventually traveled to this tastes as well. Sure, some clutter was okay, but with the ten couches, love seats, chairs all lined up around the entrance of Blockade, before it even broke up to the dining area... It was overcrowded. Not to mention, that was without any people.

See, Blockade was a café/diner, where the first room when you entered was sort of like where people would sit to chat, drink coffee, and read. Then you could go to your right, where it morphed into a diner-esque setting and a person could order food, set down and eat. Sure, people mixed and matched between eating in the front room and reading in the diner, but it still made people feel right because it happened to be the same place no matter what side you headed on.

Whatever it was about this place, Roy couldn't it doubt that it wasn't colorful. Like he said, a gallon or three of paint with all the chic and lounging furniture. Murals painted on every wall, along with added messages, names, lyrics and whatever else people freed themselves to write when they wanted to.

The table they were sitting across from one another was decked out as well. A stony-black marble table top, accompanied by shiny appliances regarding the napkin dispenser, salt and pepper, and the sugar container, outlined by the white plastic booth they sat in. It was the least exaggerated booth there.

They were alone in the dining area. Directly to Roy's left was the counter, where one of the employees stood, humming to herself as she prepared some sort of coffee concoction. She definitely fit in here, where the short spiked red hair and paint splattered clothing.

"…and it's a much better environment. Not too many people glaring at you for wearing the wrong style of season here. Really, most only get ticked off when the snobs come in here, thinking they're better than everyone else." Edward scoffed, tapping his fingers on the table top.

He still wore the Gatsby cap, even though it was a little warmer than necessary inside. He swore he remembered it being Arctic freezing when they passed through the café, but immediately became Africa hot when they were seated alone in the diner.

He was sitting with his right leg pinned under him, giving the blond a bit of elevation. His left leg swung a few inches from the ground, not quite able to reach it when he leaned all the way back in the booth.

Roy was just sitting, coming out of the daze he had been put in after he got enough glares to last him the month from all the 'artsy' folk in the café area. Apparently, he reeked priss. But at least he had the other model with him, because evidently that gave him a little leverage against the otherwise cold, calculating world of Blockade.

Roy snorted at how Edward brought that up as the example, since that was basically what had just happened. "Well, usually there is a reason for that. And if these artists glare at everyone who isn't around here, why should we try and act humble? It's not that questionable."

Edward raised an eyebrow on how Roy had placed himself in the snob category automatically. "These _artists_ just don't glare at random people. It must be those designer jeans you're wearing, along with cologne that smells a lot like Dior. I can smell you still, and it's not just because we were an inch away from each other." Edward sharply said, giving him an awful look.

Roy ignored it, choosing to huff at the mention of the job they had just completed. He was at least happy to know they money would be transferred to his account sometime tonight.

They hadn't discussed the job at all. The pair had spoken at all to be truthful. Just simple observations on the way over, Edward saving Roy's ass from a particularly feisty customer when they first entered Blockade, and now the last ten minutes spent giving the pros and cons of Blockade vs. Hinder.

It was stupid, if you asked Roy, because sure, he hated Blockade. He hated it because he extremely disliked Western Side and all the bohemian stoners within its blocks. It wasn't like he was in love with Hinder; he barely went to the carbon copy of the café/diner in Eastern Side.

It was the same makeup, from all the times Roy had been dragged there by Riza, fellow colleagues or friends that loved torturing him. It was much more polished, with white and black walls and matching furniture. The menu was more expensive. The food was probably a bit worse.

But it was more for the fact of defending something he had known before this Blockade even registered in his mind. To him, Hinder was originality brewing in the pot. Oh, and it was also where all the well-known photographers and models hung out. Hinder was the new Starbucks in Eastern Side when the celebrities could get away from the paparazzi long enough to go sit down and drink a cup.

That was just an extra perk, though.

"So what? I wear what I want because I have money to pay for what I like. What's the point of buying expensive clothing if I don't wear it in public? Hmm? Just because these people get butt ache over the fact that I dress like I'm a priss doesn't mean I'm going to exactly stop wearing it. They can get the fuck over themselves." Roy stated, looking at the blond across the table, as said model rolled his eyes, shaking his head like Roy had missed the point.

What was Edward trying to refer to?

"Okay, Edward, since I'm clearly retarded and can't read minds, please tell me your point."

For the first time, he saw hesitance in the blonds' eyes. Finally.

But as quick as lightning, the look was gone and replaced by the calculating, challenging cesspool from before.

"It's not how you dress or what you look like. It's the attitude. You act like you are so much fucking better than everyone else, like how you hesitated before stepping into the café today. Like who the fuck cares who sees you going here? It's not like this is McDonalds or anything. It's a place to relax and talk, and you're making both difficult for me when you keep zoning out and getting all defensive on me."

Roy blinked steadily at Edward, who was leaning against the back of his cushion by now, eyes unblinking as a slight smirk crossed his features.

It was quiet for a moment.

Roy had forgotten about his moment of sanity when he was thinking about turning tail and running when he figured out where Edward was planning on taking him. Who could have been looking as he entered Blockade? Who was ready to spill the gossip to his fellow Eastern Siders that he was cheating on Hinder?

But then he had been pulled into the café/diner with inhuman force by the blond, and reluctantly followed him in. Huh. He must've forgotten about it when he was daydreaming while Edward had been ranting on about the social acceptance that Blockade offered.

He had silently laughed when he caught that part.

"Listen, I'm sorry you feel that way, but no matter what you say, this is me. I thought that's what you wanted. You're trying to get me to fit in with the crowd at Blockade." Roy spoke, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back. "I'm just a Hinder fan. What if I sat here, telling you everything that would be wrong with you if you walked into Hinder like that right now?" He challenged him, letting it hang in the air. He knew the blond was either going to shrug it off and continue about what he had been talking about or begin to point out Roy's flaws once again.

He hadn't been expecting the young man to look him dead in the eye and ask what was wrong with him.

He saw something flash behind Edward's eyes, though through the mix of curiosity and stubbornness that was already present, it was tough to decipher. Was it hurt? Exasperation? Or could he just not fucking believe in the façade Roy was putting up?

"U-uh, uhm…" He stuttered out, getting caught off guard at the request.

What was he supposed to say? That he stood change his wardrobe, his haircut, his physique, and bright golden eyes, and maybe he wouldn't be molested the second he stepped into the café?

He looked up at the expectant eyes boring into him.

"Loose the girly hair cut. Perhaps buff up a little more to lose the softness in your face. Wear something that covers your shoulders? I've never seen another guy wear a shirt like that." And be able to pull it off, he added in his head.

He saw the blonds' face fall for half a second, before that same wall from before was back up.

"And with guidelines like that, you wonder why I prefer Blockade." His voice was a whole lot softer than it had been previously, looking at Roy straight in the eye before he whipped his head around.

Roy couldn't tell if it was deliberate or not, in the way he made a handful of hair fall from his cap, like it was proving a point.

"Well I'm starving." He declared, looking for a waitress.

He glanced at him one more time, his features demanding that he smirked because of the vulnerable position he put the blond in, but for some odd reason, he didn't. It was odd, really, because right now he'd be claiming victory over the collapse of someone who thought that the conversation was getting so far but only to be broken down by a simple request that Roy couldn't help but fulfill.

With the last glance, he turned his attention to trying to gather the attention of the spiky headed chick from earlier.

Over the course of their lunch, the pair had discussed topics from where they were from to where they were living now. Of course Edward wasn't surprised when Roy said he was living in Mid-East and then planning to move into Eastern Side when his house was completed.

Roy learned Edward lived in Western Side, right around the block actually, with his younger brother.

They discussed work before modeling or what got them into it. All briefly of course, because Edward seemed rather distant and distracted when he was speaking about how he had found an agent and got his first gig.

After that awkward moment, the topics turned more conventional and before they knew it, lunch was over.

Roy grimaced when Edward had told the spiky-haired girl, who was named Hilary, to just put it on his tab. He didn't like people paying for him. He always paid for the woman he went out with, regardless if he wanted to or not. Not that he was comparing this to a date, but… It was still a wakeup call for his pride when Edward shook his head and telling him to put the wallet away.

Then it was time to leave.

He was almost timid to leave, because once he walked out of the doors, he'd no longer be the priss in Blockade. He'd be a famous model who would be caught wandering in Western Side. He could see the headlines already.

'_Mustang sighting in Western Side?' _

It wouldn't be the official newspaper; more like the local ones the gossipers printed out every day. They were free and exclusive in Mid-West, Mid-East, and Eastern Side along with all the blocks derailing around it.

"_Supermodel seen in tacky Blockade? How could he do that to himself! Details inside." _

People would open the paper to see a column about how he was seen entering and exiting, along with the gruesome analogy they would give him to the other washed up models that once had a career, but were now lost in the dissected parts of Western Side.

He had to get out of here. Now.

He was the first to get up, bidding a haste goodbye to Edward, before basically running out the door and into the street. Glancing at his watch, he realized that they had been in the diner for almost an hour and a half.

Oh fuck him.

He glanced around him before turning and began his trek towards a place where he could hail a cab to take him back home. He would have to call Riza when he got there, to confirm that meeting with his boss too… Oh, what a perfect ending to a great day. Getting to see his perverted, fat-ass employer.

He saw some yellow cab cars approaching, as he quickly waved a hand out and hailed one down. Sliding in, he spoke his destination and leaned back on the plush seats.

Just as the cab pulled back into traffic, he flicked his eyes back towards Blockade, immediately being caught in Edward's unwavering gaze. He rolled his eyes, looking utterly displeased as he ventured back into Blockade.

Roy's haste to leave had confirmed everything Edward had accused him of.

When he arrived back at his apartment, Roy grimaced at the despicable area. He had boasted to Edward about being a narcissist neat freak, even going so far as to beat that false truth into himself when he spoke it. But looking down at the shag carpet where the dust sat, fallen from the ceiling fan, he sighed.

He didn't call Riza like he had planned. He went straight to his room and collided face first with his pillow. And laid there until Riza came a few hours later. He knew it was her when the front door collided with the wall like a gunshot, sounding like an entire SWAT team had shoved themselves against the barrier into his apartment.

He waited until he heard her in the doorway of his room, where she stopped, hesitated, before rustling clothes made him believe she was putting her gun away as the woman sighed.

"Why are you moping? I thought lunch went alright since I didn't receive any calls of complaints or from you bitching and telling me to pick you up."

Roy 'hmmphed' into the pillow, his arms crossed under the pillow as he held on to it.

It was quiet for a moment.

"So… where did Edward take you?"

"Blahcahd." He said, as it came out muffled. Riza rose her brow, chuckling in despite of herself.

"Har har har." Was the response.

"It couldn't have been any worse, right. At least I'm sure it could have been decent if it wasn't with you." It seemed like an insult, but all it really was telling Roy what he already knew. "Unless this was how you presented yourself. Probably scared the shit out of the poor kid with this moping of yours. You never mope."

Silence.

Riza sighed.

"Alright sir. I'm going to give you five seconds to get up for your meeting with Cornello before I use force." And something miraculous happened. Usually Roy would be up and rearing to go at the threat of not wanting to get stuck behind Riza's hot, but today he waited until she said 'five'. And then proceeded not to move.

"Sir." She simply stated. Roy stayed limp until he heard the gun being pulled back and the trigger reeling back against her finger. It made him jump, whirling around as he felt the bullet graze his hair and plant itself in the wall. Right where his lovely bangs had been the second before when he had jumped.

He pulled in incredulous face towards his friend, where she stood with a tight expression on her face. "Next time, don't move."

"So you can fucking shoot me?"

"I warned you, Mustang. Now, up before I have to waste another bullet. Plus I don't feel like washing blood out of the carpet today."

A pause. "I don't feel like it. I think I'm coming down with something."

Riza rolled her eyes though Roy pointedly ignored her.

"Yeah, but too bad it's a long term illness called 'arrogance'. Come on, Roy. I don't know what fucking happened to you today, but since the photo shoot you have been acting weird. Now I'm not one for torturing answers out of people," A snort from the direction of the bed, "so I'm not going to ask but I know what will get you back into your hateful mood."

Roy paused, considering her for a moment. Then he croaked out a, "What?"

"Going to see your boss. Now get the fuck up so we can go. I'm leaving in three minutes, sir."

And with that, she was gone.

He had been debating what to do, whether to tell her that the whole lunch conversation was bothering her. Not just the conversation, but the person he had been conversing with. It was affecting him, what he said and the whole shoot in general in way he had trouble believing in.

Maybe it was because Edward was too nice. And stubborn. He needed a weak asshole right about now.

Oh wait. He had a meeting with his boss. He smirked.

Perfect.

* * *

Love it, hate it, not sure?

Questions, comments, concerns?

See that button down there? I'd love a review.

It boosts the moral.

xo Mazzie


	4. A Double Entendre

Hey guys, what's up?

So I just got back from a six-day trip to Southern California (oh it was an awesome six hour drive .) and I had wanted to post this before I left. I had actually finished the first four pages of it but I didn't want to rush it and make it terrible, so I decided against it. Well, its freshly finished and hot off the press now. (:

So for making you all wait so long, I decided to make this chapter longer than I usually do. I usually go for eight-nine pages in Word; this is just over fourteen. Not a lot of difference, I know, but just a bit extra for all of you to enjoy. No Edward in this chapter though :/ But he's mentioned! :]

No beta. Only spellcheck.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**June 15th**

He had begrudgingly gotten out of his bed a few moments later, muttering to himself the entire time as he changed into clothes that weren't so wrinkly. He decided on a pair of dark blue jeans and a long sleeved button up that he would just roll up to his elbows if it got hot. Roy decided that he didn't want to come back home before going out tonight; not that it would sway his choice of dress with his boss. See here, Roy didn't give a shit what his boss thought of him and both men knew it to be true, but, for some reason, Mr. Cornello decided to keep him day in and day out.

It took them roughly twenty minutes to reach his boss' office, which was naturally located in Eastern Side. The building was looming at twelve stories and a whole lot of space inside and around it and Cornello controlled everything that went on inside of it. Well, with his assistant's help of course.

The first few floors were marketing and business offices, where it then broke off to fashion design and modeling. The top floors gave away to studios before it finally ended with the top floor, saved exclusively for Cornello. If Roy knew anyone, he knew that man loved being on top of other people. Both in the figurative business sense and the literal whore reality. He was a power hungry individual who had devoted his entire life to fashion merchandising and design before starting his own company that Roy was currently employed at.

It was a great company, which knew some of the best brand names and most exclusive secrets in the modeling world. Of course, there was a few agencies that toppled even his own. And one particular agency was his goal in the near future. It was the same agency that Dante was employed at.

Oh, how he was itching to walk in the same hallway as she did, pose in the same advertisements, use the same backstage… It was so exciting in his head, his fantasy of being everything that she had succeeded in being phenomenal at. Of course, it would be different since he was male. But it was so much more than that.

It would be different because this was cold, conniving Roy Mustang who could handle any sort of situation thrown his way. He could cast away disappointment and bark at whim. Well, he wasn't exactly into that kinky shit but if the executive of 7 Sins Modeling wanted him to do that for a spot in one of their legendary fashion shoots… he'd fucking rollover for him.

He had never actually met the man but had heard great things. Apparently he was the owner and executive, an ex-photographer that meddled a little too far into the fashion world and never found his way out. There had been rumors that he was sleeping with Dante as she scaled the industry, though Roy cast that off as a bunch of bullshit. Wasn't the executive supposed to be like sixty? Even if that was normal these days, Roy couldn't see Dante sleeping with that man just for promotions.

Until then, he was stuck with that bastard Cornello.

Riza found a rare parking spot, feeding the meter a few quarters as Roy stepped out. The building was two blocks behind Tringham Park, which made it just enough in town to still be considered East Side but far enough away from the major hot spots so the paparazzi wouldn't be sticking their ugly mugs into anyone's business.

Roy was first to enter, giving the door a push after him so Riza could catch it as she followed up behind him. The lobby was huge, made up of countless windows; linoleum and an abrasion-free surface area that made the entire thing look like an OCD's wet dream.

Even though it was beginning to be late in the afternoon, all the blinds were open and the last traces of sun were still glittering into the room. People lined the waiting couches and tables and chairs anchored around one another, chatting about the latest day's worth of gossip. There were desks in front for anyone with questions and off to the entrance's right across the room were a line of four different elevators.

Roy immediately took off towards the elevators, giving a nod towards the security guard that stood in front of the area as Riza bid her hello close behind him. He pushed the UP button, grabbing the first available elevator and filing in as the last riders stepped out. Without thinking, he automatically pushed the 12 floor button, waiting in that awkward silence as it slowly took the couple to their desired floor.

The entire floor was unreal, a place someone had to see to believe. He had remodeled it so instead of many different intricate offices, there was a little space after one stepped out of whichever elevator they took up, before a single glass door stretched the length.

As the model and assistant stepped out, there was little place to go but forward. Inside of the glass door was a receptionist, who barely looked up from the magazine she was reading as the two walked past them. It was the same chick that always worked there so she had recognized the couple obviously and just let them pass. Behind the receptionist was a stretch of hallway where a few doors led on either side, mainly for the assistants Cornello had, before it ended at the man's himself office.

The hallway was empty and all the doors closed to the offices, including his boss'. With one swift knock and not waiting for an answer he pushed it open.

Instantly, Roy's ears were swept away by grunts and moans coming from the confines of the office.

Oh please no… He begged internally, hoping that hell hadn't frozen over and screwed him. He had forgotten to close his eyes in the shock and even though his boss was fully clothed in front of his computer screen did little to help him.

His jaw had slacked, mouth beginning to part but he lost his chance as a strong, feminine voice rang out behind him.

"Mr. Cornello!" Riza snapped, slamming the door that Roy had flung to the side in the haste and shock of catching his boss doing whatever he was doing.

Instantly, Cornello's balding head snapped up from behind the large desktop, eyes wide in surprise though he quickly dismissed as he saw who it was. Moans of 'Oh God and Please' still rang out from the sound monitor.

"Oh, it's you Roy my boy." Roy remembers the first time the man had called him that, believing he had been the cleverest man in the world because he could rhyme. "Sorry you had to stumble in on this. Didn't hear your knock, I guess."

He swiveled the mouse around, closing whatever porn website he had up on his computer, before standing up.

Roy did shield his eyes this time, though was definitely relieved when it was revealed that his boss was, in fact, still fully clothed. He shook his head out in disgust at the thought of his boss standing up with no pants on and gagged.

Riza seemed unfazed at his side, only the grimace forming on her face showing her discomfort and growing aggravation.

"Ever tried it, Roy?" Said man's head turned into his boss' direction at the sudden question, spying that the man had moved away from behind the desk and over towards the far wall where a built in countertop, complete with a sink, cupboards, and a mini-fridge. On the opposite wall were lined with shelves filled with books, magazines, cutouts and anything that pertained to him or anything within his agency.

Of course the fat bastard would head over to his personal kitchen, where a round table stood off to the side a bit.

"Tried what? Porn? Nah, I'll stick with the real thing, thank you." He shrugged off the comment, used to them but it never got normal dealing with the man.

"No, ChatRoulette. Great invention if I do say so myself. Hey, you want anything to drink?" Roy rolled his eyes at the change in conversation though was thankful for it. He was familiar with the website but it wasn't at the top of his list to discuss it with his boss. He could only imagine what his boss was doing… 'No-o fuck ew get that fucking metal picture out of my mind…' He mentally shook it from his thoughts, before narrowing his eyes at the man.

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Abbie just got me this great new iced tea drink though I can't forget how much I know you love whiskey so I always make sure she gets some of that too when she restocks." He rambled on, pulling out and pouring himself something in a crystalline glass before grabbing the whiskey bottle and holding it up.

"Cornello, I've got places to be, so can we hurry this up?"

"Oh, yes, yes. You models are always so impatient when you should be relishing the day and starting to get wasted earlier than later." Roy caught the last few words, ringing out the question of, "What?"

He was only met with a carefully concealed "What?" face back from his boss, as the man turned and put whatever he had poured into his cup back into the fridge as he plopped over to his desk.

Roy sat down in the chair closest to the door as Riza settled in next to him. The entire room was white; the desk, computer, table, shelves and walls. The two plush chairs they sat in were no different. The color laid in everything dotting the wall and the black marble countertop on the other wall.

Cornello came over and sat back in his chair, taking a glance at whatever was on his computer background as his face broke into a drunken grin like a lovesick teenager got. Roy definitely did not want to see what he was looking at but opted to clear his throat.

All that was waiting for him was a night out on East Side which was what he needed. He needed to get his thoughts off of modeling, off of his stupid boss and off of Edw—

Scratch that. He needed to get his mind off of where Edward took him today and how he was surprised Cornello hadn't gotten wind of it already. Even if the man was a pervert, Roy still believed he was like the other population of East Side; meaning he looked down on West Side as well.

"So how was the shoot today?" Cornello asked, taking a drink.

Roy sighed, having momentarily displaced that event in his mind. "Cornello, you know I'm a ladies' man right?" The other man took one glance at him, eyes momentarily darting over to Riza who remained stony-faced before giving a sharp nod.

"Then why the hell did you book me with Vincent Noir in his gay studio in West Side? You know he fucking works with guys – on other guys!" He nearly shouted, waving his hands as he tried to prove his point. Cornello simply stared at him, before raising the glass to his lips and took a sip.

"Roy my boy, modeling is the industry of versatility. You tell me day in and day out you know that, so why the hell would you have a problem with posing with another man?" The man arched a brow, folding his arms over his chest.

Roy sputtered. "B-but that's not the point! The point is that I work with women, not with men. I'm not Roy Mustang, male model with other men. Nooo, I'm Roy Mustang the manwhore with a group of chicks. Chicks with boobs!"

"Are there any other kind?" His boss threw in with a sultry smile, to which Roy realized he might as kill himself now.

There was a pause before Cornello sighed, unfolding his arms and placing them on his desk. "Well I'm sorry you don't check your photographers before you go on scene—"

"Oh so this is my fault?"

"—But at least Noir hires the good looking models. He scheduled you with that Edward kid right? Real potential I see there, like you a few years ago."

"Well yeah but—Hey! You knew I was working with another guy? You know I don't do guys right?" So of course his boss would know, like seemingly Riza looked like she had known prior to the shoot as well.

"I know you aren't gay Roy, but modeling for a gay photographer won't make you homosexual. You modeled, got paid, represented the company and now can add that to your resume. Tell me where the hurt is." Cornello challenged, taking a sip of his drink.

Roy grumbled, folding his arms as he sat back in the chair with a sigh.

Cornello took this in triumph as he grinned, before continuing. "Well, I know how much you love working Roy my boy, so I signed you up for another job the day after tomorrow. It's… let's see here." His boss responded, shuffling papers around on his desk until he found the flyer he wanted.

"Armstrong and Co. Ah, perfect! Didn't you go to school with the boy of that family?"

Roy stared at him dryly, not even venturing to look at Riza. She knew what he felt for that family of buffoons. Olivier was crazier than the free clinic after a long drunken weekend and Alex… sure, they'd been friends once but that was before Roy was a model. And before he cared about what he looked like in front of other people. Now he would stick out like a sore thumb next to that man once he saw him and not in the way Roy liked to.

"Why the fuck do you do this to me?" He snapped out, cradling his head in his hand.

Cornello was taken back, though held his posture. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that first I'm set up with Noir then the Armstrong's? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have it out for me." Cornello just rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Roy, I like you. You know I do but it's the modeling world and I'm just trying to help you. If you want to stop taking jobs from me then I'm sure we can find some nice little business for you in West Side." Cornello smirked. "Your choice."

Fuck, he was cornered. Armstrong's or West Side? Well, he'd light himself on fire before he'd sink that low so the Armstrong's it was…

Cornello continued to grace the model with his toothy-grin, before picking up the paper to look at the details. Roy couldn't believe he was trapped. Was it worth it staying with the disgusting old man who cornered him into jobs like this? Sure, the payment was good and it gave him one more step to leaving and joining his goal business – oh he could see Dante waiting for him already.

Perhaps if he was optimistic he would look back at having such a caring boss a good thing, but Mustang was far from gazing at the bright side of things. No, he was directly opposite which is why he hated the propositions Cornello usually gave him.

It had been quiet in the office for a moment. Roy glanced over his shoulder to see that Riza had wandered over the bookshelf and was occupying her time frowning at the small printed magazines and book spines. He looked back to his boss, who was holding the paper mighty close to his face to read the fine print of the paper.

Hm. Seems porn destroys eyesight after awhile?

"So," Roy began, unfolding his arms to place them in his lap, "Alex models for the company, but last I heard Olivier bosses everyone around when they do their runway shows and they have photography apparently? Exactly what does this company specialize in?" He paused before remembering something. "And what about my gig? What am I going to be doing or is it 'classified'?" He mocked the last word to the older man, who scrunched his face in thought from leaning back in his chair and grabbing his glass to take a sip.

"The Armstrong's were originally a photography-oriented family though I'm sure you knew that. Well, the boy strayed away from that and began modeling at 7 Sins as you should also be aware of so his parents opened up studios and a business for modeling and training to corral their son back. It worked and before long all three of those yahoos got the daughter to come in and apply some tough love to new models as well as working back stage for the runway shows. The parents used to take pictures but now they just hire people to do it most of the time." Cornello stated, shifting in his seat.

Roy snorted when Cornello called the family 'yahoos'. Like the man had room to talk.

"I believe your favorite photographer Vincent Noir was hired there for the first year of his career as well." Mustang huffed at that bit of information. Figures.

"And as for your job, it'll be a photo shoot as far as I'm concerned. Last I heard some models from 7Sins were even invited. But if you're still so unsure about it…" Cornello laughed mercilessly at the sudden interest in Roy's expression.

"What? You wait all this time to share that piece of information you useless old—"

"Useless? Old?" Cornello fired back with a tinge in his eyes.

Roy reeled back, sputtering. "I mean helpful, amazing - - crone. So there's a chance –?

"That Dante is there?" Cornello shrugged. "I guess if she isn't already working."

His former frown immediately buckled into a great grin, staring at his boss. "Yes." He whispered, racking his brain. Perhaps this meeting wasn't such a bust after all. It was going from south to north, from west to east—

"And who knows," Cornello interrupted his thoughts, "Maybe you'll see that cute blond model there as well."

-Side—wait what?

"Huh?" Roy frowned once again, confused. Cute… blond… model? He didn't know anyone fitting that description unfortunately. Actually, that was untrue. There were plenty of women he could name that fit his description of 'cute' – well 'hot' and 'sexy' actually – but no models jumped to his mind.

Cornello was giving that creepy smile once again, like he knew something Roy really didn't want to know nor cared about. "You know, that new boy that you just worked with? Edward, right?"

Roy immediately frowned before barked in laughter at that accusation holding his stomach as he tried to stay in his seat. Riza had turned from her scrounging to only cast a glance at her invalid before turning back with a shake of her head. Cornello looked discouraged for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and muttering, "Fine, more for me."

That stopped Roy instantly as that disgusted look appeared once more on his face. "Please keep that to yourself." He then straightened up finally, thoughts of his boss doing something to his newest partner racking his brain. Oh, he definitely needed to light his mind on fire… Or at least wash it away with some great, expensive alcohol…

"Anyway, Riza you got that? Photo shoot the day after tomorrow at—"

"21st and March. That's where their main studio is but you'll probably be around the block shooting in the south entrance of Tringham Park—"

"Okay, 21st and March. Riza?"

"Got it, sir." She responded as he looked over his shoulder to see her typing it into her planner. Roy nodded, before gazing back at his boss.

"Are we finished now? I have reservations in" He checked his watch, "twenty minutes at The Station."

Cornello looked at him once, before flicking his hands away to show that he was dismissed. "Yeah, go on, go on. I need to get back to my daily watching anyhow. I still get charged even when the website windows are closed, ya know?" He gave a wink as the two scurried out of the room and closed the door before the first moan from the computer speakers was heard.

xXx

The Station was one of Central's best, most expensive, and hardest to get into without connections. It was located around the block from Tringham Park, the north side, right outside the business district and about a five minute drive from his boss' studio.

The sun was gone by the time they reached the club entrance, after Riza pulled over and gave the car to valet. She was off duty the moment they stepped from Cornello's office but just because she made sure Roy didn't get killed during the day didn't disregard the fact they were still friends.

The night life in East Side was legendary and anyone who considered themselves worthwhile was bound to show from time to time. The Station was just one of many clubs that lined this particular street, along with a few choice bars, pubs and strip clubs.

This was the party district, the place where only those who could handle chaos flocked night after night whether or not they were being stalked by paparazzi. It was also the most known place where dirty little secrets would be let out in the open.

Anyone with pride and an ounce of dignity was generally seen high-tailing it out of this area. Roy, on the other hand, was quite fond of The Station, much less the area. One reason? The best strip club in the area was right across the street from The Station…

Three guesses where the lovely ladies that weren't working at the moment would go for entertainment?

Oh how he loved East Side.

Roy flashed his I.D. at the bouncer, Riza doing the same, as they were ushered in right in front of the poor ugly souls still standing in line. He briefly remembers the time he was that pitiful, to not use his connections and good looks to help him gain influence and get him into the club.

That was years ago, but it still made him shutter that there _had_ been a time like that.

Inside, the club was starting to come to life. It was only roughly around nine PM and the full contents of what The Station could become had yet to be revealed, but it was a start. The Station was picture-esque, compared to a baseball diamond inside.

The entrance was one point, where two long halls broke off to the left and right. The bar was on the right side, on the next stretch after the end of the first hallway. Straight ahead, after descending down three steps, was a ring that held tables complete with stools. After those scattered seating arrangements was the dance floor, displayed in all its glory where most of the occupants were already sweating it up.

At the moment, the lights were neon blue and blindingly bright white, as the technician behind it all was making it flash and glow everywhere like a gigantic disco ball was above the dance floor.

It splattered all along the walls as well, lighting up the pictures of bands, people, and businesses displayed every few feet on the hard paneled wood. Roy never looked at the pictures in great detail, but he was sure that there had to be some model pictures of there, especially of one person in particular, and maybe even some photos taken from his own agency.

But Roy had never been bored enough to be reduced to staring at the walls for long periods of time. Besides, he rarely ventured to the other side of the club unless wasted out of his mind and in need of a bathroom.

The music was a new single from a wash up in Xing, and though Roy never listened to the hard core rap like this it still had potential if it was playing at The Station.

He looked down the steps and around the tables, looking for anyone that he knew until Riza tapped his shoulder. She had immediately turned right once they entered the club and went halfway down the hall to intercept a young woman with a tray of drinks. Riza shoved one of the glasses she took into Roy's hands as she pushed past him and down into the lower ring of tables and the dance floor.

Roy followed her until she found their normal table—it was occupied. But, on the bright side, it held some of the people Roy actually tolerated.

Riza sat down first, in the empty chair farthest away from the dance floor. They were in the corner that was right in front of the bar and diagonal away from the D.J. station. Roy didn't recognize that D.J. tonight but didn't keep it in his mind for long as he slid in by his best friend.

"Hey Roy, glad you could make it." Maes said, slapping Roy on the back in greeting as his cheeks turned into a smile. As Mustang followed modeling in his lifetime, he friend had chosen a similar, though different, route.

He used to be a photographer, though after marrying and having a daughter, his best friend had seemingly dropped off the world-wide scale and only worked in the area. He was also the one that helped Roy get hooked up with the fashion industry and later the agency he was booked at.

But nowadays it seemed that all Hughes photographed were close friends and old clientele. Oh, and his young daughter.

"Yeah, didn't think I could show my face around here anytime soon, but the meeting with Cornello spurred me to drink my sorrows away." He cheered his glass before throwing it back before reaching out to grab the arm of the waitress walking by.

"Another, please?" He rubbed his thumb on her skin, purring out the request as the young woman smirked back at him and turned heel, breaking contact and walking back towards the bar. But not before got a pretty good picture of her behind.

Oh, already one down on his list.

"Why wouldn't you be able to show your face around here? Piss off some reporters already?" Maes crocked a brow as he sipped at his own drink. Now that Maes didn't work fulltime as a photographer he brought home the bacon working at the town's newspaper. So if Hughes didn't know about his deal in West Side today, then no one knew… Roy concluded. He was safe, he was home fre—

"He was spotted in West Side today… Around Blockade, right?" Roy scowled across the table, where the smoking man to Riza's right was sitting, sporting a toothy grin to the older man. "No use in denying it Mustang. Your face is enough to tell me its true info."

Roy barely registered the woman coming back with his drink, sliding it on the table as he automatically reached into his wallet and tipped her. He was almost too pissed to feel the extra second that the girl left her hand on his shoulder or was close to missing the flirtatious glance she threw him as she walked away.

He smiled back, definitely liking his early night options so far. But before he could give chase, he had to pick how this assistant knew his business when Havoc clearly didn't operate anywhere near West Side.

He met Havoc through Riza, as they both grew up reasonably close to one another, about six or so years ago. Like Hawkeye, Jean worked as a personal assistant who was great at his job for one reason and one reason only: he was the best at sticking his nose in places it didn't belong.

So it made reasonable sense he would know about Roy's escapades if he were in East Side but on the other side of the city? And so soon? He had a source.

Said man was busy finishing whatever he had been nursing for the past few moments, holding his cigarette in one hand before shoving it back in his mouth once he had gulped it down.

"Blockade? You mean that worthless excuse for a copy of our own club?" The man to Riza's left and Roy's right spoke up, arching a manicured brow. Roy felt Maes roll his eyes beside him, taking a drink.

"Yeah, that's the one. He was seen entering with another man but exited alone roughly an hour and a half later." Havoc reported. "But no one knows who the kid was. Roy, on the other hand, sticks out like a sore thumb, right?"

The other man sandwiched between Riza and Roy curled his lip back in displeasure, shaking his head. "What the fuck were you doing down there, Mustang? Last time I checked I thought you were… upscale." In the pause Archer took his time to flash his eyes, looking at Roy up and down.

Frank Archer was utterly and unimportantly not connected to any of them in any way. All Archer had was tons of money and socialism in his blood. Next to the Tringham's, the Archer's were one of the most powerful and wealthiest families around. But no amount of wealth made him appealing to the other four at the table.

He had first attached himself to Roy at a runway after party last year and had invited himself along ever since.

"I was booked down there and went out to lunch afterwards with my co-worker. End of story, Archer." Roy snarled back, taking a massive drink of his new cup.

Archer narrowed his eyes, 'hmmphing' towards Mustang as he grabbed his own cup and stood up. "Well, if you excuse me I'd rather spend my time with the promising successors of East Side. Until then." He knocked his glass in the table's direction and took off, soon to be lost in the swell of The Station.

A chorus of 'thank god's' rang out from the table as Maes and Roy stretched out, immediately occupying the space incase Archer wandered back. Riza loosened up her shoulders as Havoc looked like he was about to say something again.

"So it's true then? Ha-ah, see Hughes, of course your source was right!" Havoc chucked, reaching out to take a swig of his drink before he realized there was none left. He made eyes over to Riza who dryly gazed back and held tightly to her drink. The man whined, calling over a waitress and ordering another.

But Roy stopped, slowly turning to face his best friend who was in turn glaring at Havoc, who was, of course, oblivious. "How the hell did you find out?"

"I'm a reporter Roy, you know that!"

"Yeah but then you tell Havoc?" He huffed.

Hughes shook his glass around in a circular motion, mixing the contents and clinking the ice. "Well before Archer and you two got here it was just us and it means of making conversation…" He looked up suddenly with a cheeky grin.

"And it's not like anyone else knows, Roy. So what you were seen in West Side! At least it shows you sticking it to the press by coming out tonight." He clapped his friend on the back as he in turn just stared back.

"No one else knows?" He questioned, making sure.

Hughes looked modest at first, scratching the back of his head. "Anyone besides who saw you with their own eyes and those at this table? No. So don't let it get to you. Go get drunk, forget about it."

Roy looked across the table for help from Riza, who had tuned out her boss and friend and was currently discussing recent events with Havoc. He frowned, crossing his arms before glancing out to his right and on the dance floor.

"The news must really be getting to you if you're hesitating about going out and finding some girls." His friend's voice broke through his bubble as he went back to look at him. His glasses had picked up some of the stray light beams, making it impossible for Roy to look him in the eyes from the glint. Roy just shrugged at the comment.

"Alright, then tell me who the man was. Anyone I know?"

Mustang shook his head. "No one important."

It surprised him when Hughes barked with sudden laughter, throwing his head back and making Roy glance at him in total bewilderment. "What?"

"What?" Maes repeated, staring at his friend as if he had grown a third head. "You think letting someone bring you out even though you make such a fuss about being in West Side regardless is 'not important'? You'd kill me if I made you go party in one of the clubs there, Roy!"

Roy didn't say anything, just looked ahead. "There's nothing to say. It's just a new model that I worked with. I didn't think he was going to take me to Blockade, but I couldn't exactly say no, right?" He heard his friend sigh at his side.

"Wrong. You always fucking say no to people. That's you, Roy Mustang: deny, deny, deny. So don't give me any of that 'I couldn't say no' shit." Roy glanced back at Hughes who was staring at him, shaking his head.

He paused for a moment. "So who did you work with today?"

"Vincent Noir." Mustang bit out, as if acid was on his tongue. Maes couldn't help but smile.

"Oh so I see where this is going. Well even if people know that you were seen in West Side, barely any of them will know you worked with Noir. So if you're worried about being connected to Noir in the wrong way, or to that other guy in the similar light then I'd drop it." Maes stopped, looking thoughtful. "But the mystery still remains who the model is and why you went out with him."

Roy was just going to ignore, ignore, ignore his friend, but it seemed like it was perfect timing for his assistant to pop back from her conversation with Havoc and into theirs.

"Oh, are you talking about Edward?" Riza asked, to which Maes gaped. Apparently his friend had heard of the model.

"That's who you were paired up with?"

"Yeah, you heard of him?"

Maes nodded. "Bits and pieces here and there, but word shows that he's the next 'big thing'. By working with him, you either jump started his or he's going to help save yours down the line. But I guess it all makes sense now."

Maes flashed a smile at Roy's confused expression. "What makes sense?"

"Oh nothing, nothing, Roy. Why don't you go and have fun now? It looks like that waitress is off duty now." Maes made a hand gesture towards the floor, which had started to fill up as they spoke. And the woman from earlier was indeed there.

Roy cast one look around the table, as Riza had once again began ignoring him and spoke on to Havoc who had barely stopped moving his mouth in the last five minutes. With one last glace at his friend, who was grinning at him, he picked up and downed his drink, scooted his chair back and got up.

Sure, he loved talking to his friend but sometimes Maes reporter side took the secrecy and guessing games a bit too far. He had come to escape thoughts of today and thoughts of his once-then partner but it seemed like it always came back to Edward.

Hughes said it made sense to him, why Roy had accepted the invitation to go and eat with the blond model even after working with that fruit of a photographer. Well it was nothing more than a puzzle to Roy. It had just been lunch, one that he had high-tailed from when his mind crept back to him. Plus, it wasn't like Mustang was going to be working with him anytime soon.

To Roy, it seemed like Edward was much more inclined to work with people like Noir. Not just the photographers in West Side but the ones who took pictures of men. With other men. Yeah, from their first experience Roy had no other inkling then believing his partner swung that way. And Roy clearly did not.

Clearly did not as he made his way from the outer ring of tables and onto the dance floor, intercepting the off-duty waitress and immediately grabbing for her hips and sliding his hands lower and lower as the mosh around him moved and humped to the rhythm…

Oh, this was perfect. He was back in his field of experience… His field of women. Roy hummed happily as all events of the day washed away from his mind, trailing his lips over the body he was plastered against. Soon the song was over, as a petite body led him to the bar and a pair of thin hands traced every part of his body as he ordered them shots by the second.

He couldn't recall seeing his friends or their table for the rest of the night; didn't remember the events that unfolded with his latest screw. His senses were soon lost in an alcoholic buzz, gratified when they left the club with promise of the nameless woman beside him that her apartment was close.

There was still a huge line outside behind the red velvet line, the bouncer waving no one through as Roy and his mystery woman stumbled out. Mustang literally almost fell, but someone caught him as the woman pulled him up on the other side.

A flash of yellow on his left side alerted another person besides the woman had lifted him up, to which he gave a drunken 'thanks' as he was pulled away by his hookup. He didn't catch the face of the other person, but the thought was soon forgotten as he caught up to the waitress.

His thoughts soon left him as they got back to her place, taking a new level to what Maes had wished him when he told him to 'have fun'.

* * *

Well, there you go; a new chapter.

I worked on this in parts so if some things don't match, don't hesitate to alert/correct me.

Review? I'd love one.

Thanks for all the support so far!

Please PM with any questions (:

xo Mazzie


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